


From Russia with Love

by Caeseria



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Semi-Public Sex, Silence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-25
Updated: 2016-10-25
Packaged: 2018-08-24 13:12:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8373502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caeseria/pseuds/Caeseria
Summary: There’s not a chance in hell they’re going to make it back to the hotel before Victor succumbs to desire, not with Yuuri looking at him like that, hunger in his eyes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to write our favourite boys having hot and heavy sex, so I decided to set this in the future a bit, because as of now (episode 3) it's very clear that Yuuri is sexually inexperienced. So I've set this at Nationals, which moves this story a few months ahead of where we are now and set it as an established relationship. I hope you all enjoy ;)
> 
> I'm also on [Tumblr](http://caeseria.tumblr.com/) if you want to say hi, or leave a prompt!
> 
> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Victor stands to the side of the staging area amongst the manic press of people, both competitors and coaches, and watches Yuuri.  Yuuri’s going through his final stretches before he takes the ice, arms stretched over his head.  He’s got his earbuds in, focused inward, probably mentally running through his program.  Victor takes the time to watch, to observe unnoticed.  He knows that Yuuri can do this, that he can succeed.  He wants Yuuri to win; he wants to see that confidence that he knows is buried deep within Yuuri manifest itself.  When it does, Yuuri will be nigh on unstoppable.

Victor had caught a glimpse of that yesterday when Yuuri had made the cut after the short program, placing in the final group to skate today.  Providing Yuuri doesn’t crash and burn spectacularly, he’ll move on to participate in the Grand Prix events, which is Victor’s goal; hadn’t he promised Yuuri all those months ago that he’d help him win the Final?  For now, however, they have to make it through the Nationals.  Yuuri’s been in semi- retirement. He needs to prove himself again; to show publicly he can handle the stress of competition and get the job done.  Victor doesn’t doubt it for a second but, more importantly, Yuuri needs to realize for himself that he still has the ability to win. 

“Katsuki-san?” A diminutive woman, holding a clipboard, is searching, looking for Yuuri. “Katsuki-san?” She spots him, hurries over, and Victor watches as Yuuri pulls out an earbud, listening to her, nodding. 

Victor makes his way over, touching Yuuri on the arm so as not to startle him.  “Ready?” he asks with a smile.

“I think so,” Yuuri replies quietly.  He looks down, a sure sign to Victor that Yuuri still doubts his abilities. 

Victor can’t help himself – he knows they’re in public, that he shouldn’t – but he reaches out, places a hand under Yuuri’s chin and forces Yuuri to meet his gaze.  Yuuri blushes, glances around, and Victor drops his hand.  His point has been made, however; Yuuri’s attention is now focused on him instead of his nerves.  “You can do this,” Victor says with conviction.  “I have trust in you, Yuuri, never doubt that for a moment.”  Yuuri looks surprised, and Victor wonders how many times he’ll have to remind Yuuri of that fact.  “I wouldn’t have left Russia if I didn’t think you could succeed.”

Yuuri nods, still looks sceptical but determined all the same.  He slips out of his jacket, passes it to Victor, takes off his skate guards.  He’s as ready as he’ll ever be.  The woman waves Yuuri over and he steps onto the ice. This is the point where Victor realizes that, as a coach, he has to let Yuuri go.  There’s nothing more to be said, to be done.  _This_ moment is one of the hardest moments he’s experienced; having to stand here, to wait, to watch.  It’s almost harder than competing, but he’ll do it, for Yuuri. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Yuuri skates, he moves with an innate grace that’s enviable, all fluid movement, like water across ice. He nails every single spin, every step sequence perfectly, every jump is almost flawless.  Victor’s unable to look away, his entire body – his soul – focuses on Yuuri, because it’s impossible _not_ to. There’s something about the way Yuuri skates, and Victor’s reminded of the first time he saw Yuuri’s video.  He feels heat curl in his stomach, a reminder of that night, and now he’s remembering other nights, when Yuuri’s moved beneath him in an entirely different way, but with no less grace.

Victor mentally shakes his head and focuses back on Yuuri, who is moving through the last steps of the program.  He finishes with a flourish that has the crowd cheering, but across the ice, Yuuri only has eyes for Victor.  Yuuri has the ability to find Victor anywhere in a crowd and today is no exception; Yuuri’s gaze is triumphant, excited, smouldering with passion, and it’s all directed at Victor.  Victor tries to breathe under that intense gaze, locks eyes to Yuuri’s, and hopes that Yuuri can see how much he’s affected by his performance.

Yuuri takes a final bow to the judges and skates toward Victor, stepping off the ice as the next skater moves past him.  With his experienced eyes, Victor can see how exhausted Yuuri is, but at the same time he knows that adrenaline will carry Yuuri through the worst of it. 

The scores, when they come, are impressive.  There are three skaters left, and now it’s just a question of watching and waiting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Victor’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching as Yuuri exits the changing room.  He’s flushed from the exertion of the competition still, color dusted across his cheekbones beneath his glasses.  He’s wearing his usual black jacket, zipped up to his neck, and those damn pants he was wearing in the video where he copied Victor’s routine.  Victor has an understandable weakness for those pants; it was the first time Yuuri had thrown himself into Victor’s path, even if it had been unintentional.  Victor has always admired the way the blue stripe travels from knee to hip, curves around Yuuri’s muscular ass like a caress, and then dips downward in the middle, as if drawing the eye directly to the prize.  And oh _god_ , does Victor ever want the prize.  He can feel the desire he’s been supressing for the last week flare, making his stomach clench, heat settling in his belly.  He feels his cock stir, and then Yuuri spots him, smiles brilliantly from across the hallway, and Victor is lost.  Yuuri has many smiles, but this one lights up his whole face with joy and excitement, and Victor knows that smile is just for him.  He pushes off the wall, walking toward Yuuri, trying to appear his usual, unaffected self.  It seems like it takes an eternity to cross the hallway; people naturally want to stop and talk to him but, as much as he loves the attention, this time he only has eyes for Yuuri.

“Victor!”

Yuuri’s happiness and excitement is infectious, and Victor smiles in return.   “Yuuri. Ready to go or haven’t you had your fill of success yet?”  Victor can’t help teasing; he knows it flusters Yuuri.

“Ah, no.  I’m ready to leave when you are.”  Yuuri’s skin flushes a darker shade; there’s that Japanese reticence rearing its head again, and Victor finds it fascinating. It’s completely alien to his own culture and, because of that, endearing as hell.  They’re approached by a news team, stopped in the hallway for a photo by yet another, and it seems they are never going to get clear of the crowds.  Victor pastes on his smile and tries not to think about Yuuri, so close beside him, only inches away.  More people flock around them: that’s the problem, once you stop for one photo op, everyone’s suddenly there.  Cameras flash, reporters ask questions, but it all fades into the background for Victor.  He’s usually the first to greet fans and reporters; he’s genuinely happy to play the idol, but all he wants – all he _needs_ right now – is Yuuri.  He wants to touch his skin, kiss him until he’s gasping for air, make him lose control.  He realizes then he’s not going to make it back to the hotel; not even as far as the car the hotel sent.  He glances at Yuuri and is shocked to realize that Yuuri has guessed what he’s thinking; is probably thinking the same thing.  Yuuri’s eyes are wide, pupils blown, mouth slightly parted. He’s clearly not focused on the questions the reporters are asking; his body language is stiff, like he’s holding himself in check and, for Victor, it’s the final straw.  

Victor smiles to the reporters.  “Sorry, sorry, we have to go,” he apologizes, amping up his smile until it’s blinding.  Not many can resist Victor in full stardom mode and now he uses it like a weapon.  “I’m sure Yuuri is tired and needs rest after today’s competition.”

Yuuri looks startled; probably because he’s well aware that this isn’t Victor’s usual modus operandi.  “Yes, yes,” he offers hesitantly.  “Thank you for your time, everyone.”

They move away from the crowds, along a hallway that seems horribly long to Victor, heading toward where the car will pick them up. Yuuri walks next to him, bag on shoulder and, every now and again, their fingers brush against each other, sending an jolt of desire through Victor.  The flush hasn’t left Yuuri’s face, and he watches as Yuuri bites his lip, glancing up at him.  They turn another corner, and suddenly the hallway is clear, empty of people.  Victor glances over his shoulder just to check; he knows that he’s going to do this if Yuuri is willing and tries to give himself a few seconds to attain some kind of composure, but he’s failing.  He turns back to Yuuri, grabs his wrist, and pulls him through the nearest door, shutting it behind him, enclosing them in velvet darkness.

Yuuri turns around, maybe to say something, but Victor steps into his space, sliding a hand around Yuuri’s neck, into his hair.  Yuuri’s eyelashes flutter behind his glasses, and Victor can’t help himself; he leans forward and kisses Yuuri.  Yuuri moans, opens for Victor, and Victor deepens the kiss.  Somewhere in the background, Victor hears the sound of Yuuri’s bag hitting the floor, but it’s the last thing on his mind when Yuuri is tugging at the zipper of Victor’s jacket, snaking his hands inside, looking for skin to touch.  Victor lets out a harsh gasp when Yuuri’s fingers slide under his shirt, and he breaks the kiss, breathing Yuuri’s name like a prayer.

Yuuri pulls back enough to glance around, a puzzled expression on his face.  “Um, Victor, where are we?” he asks.

Victor attempts to string two brain cells together long enough to answer the question.  “Some kind of office maybe?” he replies.  The room is dark; the only light that enters is from the hallway, muted and dimmed by the frosted glass window in the door.  It’s still enough to see Yuuri’s expression though, the way the light and shadow plays across his face, highlighting one part and then another as he looks around. Yuuri’s body seems to still, as if he’s putting together the pieces of a puzzle.  His fingers tense and flex against the sensitive skin of Victor’s stomach, and Victor tries to supress the reaction to tighten his muscles.  He fails apparently; Yuuri grins, and that’s a new expression Victor hasn’t seen before.  He’s only seen hints of it in passing over the past few months as Yuuri regains his confidence and poise, starts to understand his talent and himself. 

“Yuuri?” he asks. “Tell me; what you are thinking?”

“I – “ Yuuri flushes with embarrassment, looks toward the door and then back at Victor.  “I want you, Victor,” he says in a rush, words tumbling over each other.

Victor sucks in a breath.  He’s floored; the combination of innocence and passion Yuuri unconsciously exhibits never fails to excite Victor.  He’s reminded again of the way Yuuri danced to _Eros_ , flaunting his body, moving his hips, intricate steps managing to convey passion as he turned the promise of fucking into an art form.  Even in a rink full of people, Yuuri’s dance was private, intimate, for Victor alone.  Victor has spent years being fangirled, idolized but, until that moment, he had never been _seduced_.  And now Yuuri is here, in this darkened room, doing exactly the same thing all over again, and Victor is as unable to resist his charms now as he was then.

Victor wraps his arms around Yuuri’s waist, drawing him close.  Yuuri tenses and then melts into the embrace, as if he’s unsure what Victor’s reaction might be.  “Yuuri,” Victor whispers.  “If we do this…” He suddenly can’t think; his brain is on overload.  “If we do this here, now, I can’t hold back.  I want to –“

“Victor, please.”  Yuuri’s breath is hot on Victor’s neck; it sends a shiver racing down his spine.  He shifts, reaching both hands up to cup Yuuri’s face, leaning in for another mind-blowing kiss.  Yuuri leans into him and Victor starts to walk them toward the desk in the corner.  Half of him wants to push Yuuri up against the wall, to have Yuuri wrap his long, muscular legs around his hips, to fuck into Yuuri’s willing body hard and fast, but Victor doesn’t think that, at this point, Yuuri’s up for that much effort. Not after the hours of practice today followed by the stress of the competition.   

The back of Yuuri’s thighs meet the edge of the desk and he makes a noise of surprise into the kiss, but doesn’t break it, instead opening further, deepening the kiss, wrapping his arms around Victor’s shoulders, fingers carding into his hair.  Victor takes that as permission to proceed, pushes one thigh between Yuuri’s and grinds forward, hip to hip.  He’s not surprised to find that Yuuri is already hard; the thrill of competition, of _winning_ , has the same effect on Victor – although he’s usually able to keep it in check long enough to take care of it in private.  He works his way along Yuuri’s jaw, down the fine line of his neck, nipping at the sensitive skin, feeling the shudder that works its way through Yuuri’s body.  He pulls at the zipper of Yuuri’s jacket, exposing more of him; mouthing at the sensitive place where his neck meets his shoulder.  Yuuri tilts his head back, breathing out a quiet sound of pleasure that has tight desire pounding through Victor’s already sensitised body.  Victor pushes the jacket off Yuuri’s shoulder and Yuuri drops his arms to struggle free of the fabric, letting it fall to the side.  Victor pauses, takes a long look at how debauched Yuuri already looks; his hair is mussed, and it’s close enough to how he’d looked when he’d danced _Eros_ that it’s startling.  Yuuri’s shirt is pulled to the side, and Victor can already see a red mark blooming on his neck from Victor’s kisses.  The thrill of possession grips Victor; he wants to mark so much of that skin, but knows he can’t. Not now, but maybe later.   Yuuri’s eyes are half-lidded behind his glasses; he’s lost to the moment.  Victor leans in for another kiss, hands sliding under Yuuri’s shirt, pressing against hot skin, moving toward Yuuri’s ass.  Yuuri arches under his touch, gasps, rolls his hips.  They grind against each other, slow and hard, and Victor has half a mind to see how far they can take it just like this, but he’s demanding; he wants it all.

Victor slides his fingers under the waistband of Yuuri’s pants, feels Yuuri arch into his touch.  Yuuri shifts, a silent hint, and Victor obliges, fingers stroking down the cleft of his ass, teasing, promising nothing except the hint of what might come.

“Victor.”  Yuuri sounds impatient now.  “Hurry, please.”

Victor frees one hand to fumble in his jacket pocket for lube.  Yuuri uses his distraction to mouth at Victor’s neck, hands exploring with no rhyme or reason, just a need to touch.  Victor shrugs off his jacket, gets the lube open, squeezes some onto his fingers and throws the packet onto the desk.  He takes Yuuri firmly by the hips, moves him to the edge of the desk, and kisses him deeply, swallowing Yuuri’s exclamation of surprise.  He pushes Yuuri’s pants down past his hips and slides his hand over soft skin, admiring the way Yuuri’s butt muscles tighten under his touch.  He circles one finger around Yuuri’s entrance, teasing at the sensitive skin there.

 “Can you be quiet, Yuuri?” he whispers.  “Can you do this without making a sound?”  Victor knows that if anyone walks in, if anyone _sees_ them like this, Yuuri’s career is over. Yuuri’s not stupid; he’s probably more than aware that they are playing with fire by even _considering_ this, but then Yuuri pushes back firmly onto Victor’s finger, moans at the sudden penetration, a low, filthy sound of arousal that has the blood pounding through Victor’s veins.  He pushes in deep, almost to the second knuckle, revels in the way Yuuri tightens around him, then relaxes, pushes back again, begging with his body in ways he can’t – won’t – voice out loud.  Victor pulls out, pushes a second finger in.  Yuuri’s tight, but loosening quickly; the excitement and danger a powerful aphrodisiac for both of them.  Victor curls his fingers, brushes over Yuuri’s prostate, presses forward gently.  He fastens his mouth over Yuuri’s, pushes forward with his tongue as he fucks Yuuri with his fingers and _oh god_ , the sounds Yuuri makes, the way his body trembles, it’s too much, far too soon.  Victor breaks the kiss, slides his fingers gently free, even as Yuuri lets out a sound of disappointment that goes straight to Victor’s cock.

“Yuuri, this is dangerous,” he says.  He needs Yuuri to understand and, as much as he wants to get caught up in the moment, Victor knows he has to spell it out for both of them.

“It’s only dangerous if we get caught,” Yuuri replies between panting breaths.  “I can’t wait, I…”

 _Dammit_.  Victor cups Yuuri’s cheek, fingers caressing over soft, heated skin.  He’s going to do this, _they_ are going to do this, and perhaps the faster the better to avoid discovery.  “Yuuri,” he breathes, “It seems I am unable to deny you anything, yes?” Yuuri blushes again, a determined look on his face despite the embarrassment.  “Turn around,” Victor says.

Yuuri pauses, and then does what Victor asks.  Victor pushes Yuuri down over the desk and steps between his legs.  He leans back just enough to admire the fine lines of Yuuri’s body; the way his muscles play under skin as he arches his back, offers himself to Victor.  Victor strokes Yuuri’s ass, hand sliding up again to the base of his spine, and then he leans forward, draping himself over Yuuri’s back, fingers sliding down the crack of Yuuri’s ass, still slick from before.  Victor uses the last of the lube on his cock, sliding his tight fist along his length, coating it from base to tip.  Yuuri is still, resting on his elbows, waiting, watching Victor.  His mouth is slightly open, panting softly.  He curls one hand into a fist and his eyes flutter shut momentarily.  It’s that mixture of innocence and desire again; so sexy.  Victor moves forward, presses against Yuuri’s ass, lining his cock up, pausing.  He’s waiting, waiting for Yuuri, and then Yuuri pushes back.  Victor’s cock slides in in one smooth movement and he forces himself to pause, to let Yuuri adjust.  His fingers dig into Yuuri’s hips, still bruised from a fall during practice, and he tries to gentle his touch.  Yuuri clenches around his cock, then releases, arching his spine, until Victor’s all the way in. He’s done holding back now, hovering at the edge of desire, he wants everything Yuuri has, more if he can get it.  He grips Yuuri’s hips and thrusts forward, setting a fast, smooth pace, seeing if he can get Yuuri to make those noises he loves so much, the ones he makes when he’s begging not only with his body, but with his entire being. 

Yuuri’s starting to loosen up now and it makes Victor’s job easier; he can change the pace, fucking him with short, sharp bursts.  Yuuri is panting, breaths coming fast and ragged, loud in the room.  Victor changes the angle, rides Yuuri hard, and Yuuri can’t help himself; he’s crying out now on almost every breath, lost to the moment.  The sight of Yuuri losing it so completely is incredible, until Victor remembers where they are.  He leans forward, rests his elbow on the desk and wraps a hand over Yuuri’s mouth, muffling the sounds.  “ _Shhh_ ,” he whispers in Yuuri’s ear, nibbling at Yuuri’s lobe.  “Too loud, sweetheart,” he says softly. 

Victor starts to move again, but then the light in the room shifts and changes and Yuuri freezes, looking toward the door. Yuuri’s sudden movement alerts Victor to the fact that something is wrong.  Through the frosted glass of the door, he can make out a vaguely human shape, and then another; clearly two people pausing in the hallway to hold a conversation, judging by the low sound of talking. The door handle rattles slightly, turning, but it doesn’t open, as if one of the people has their hand on it.  Yuuri clenches around his cock and Victor has to bite his lip to avoid making a sound because it feels so _good_. 

Yuuri shakes his head a little and Victor removes his hand from Yuuri’s mouth.  “Victor?” he says. His eyes are wide, maybe a little disbelieving. 

Victor can see panic starting to build; Yuuri’s heading for flight mode unless Victor can get him to calm down, reassure him it’s going to be okay.  He places one hand on Yuuri’s back, a gentle reminder not to move.  “Hush, Yuuri,” he says.  “They’re not coming in, see?”  Victor hopes to god they are _not_ coming in, anyway.  He needs to distract Yuuri, and fast.  He trails a hand down Yuuri’s side, over his hip, around to his erection.  Yuuri’s cock is rock hard, hot to the touch, despite his panic.  That’s about the sexiest thing Victor’s experienced, ever.  He strokes down Yuuri’s length, smearing pre-come along Yuuri’s cock.  Half his attention is on the door, half is on Yuuri as he fucks him slowly, gauging his reaction.  He strokes over Yuuri’s balls, then back up along his erection and Yuuri bucks beneath him, caught between his body and his hand, making small abortive movements as if he’s not sure whether to push onto Victor’s cock or into his hand.  Victor grinds down slowly, kisses his way along Yuuri’s shoulder, watching the couple in the hallway for the slightest indication they might move.  Yuuri’s breathing is coming faster; he’s over the initial panic, now his body is reacting to the adrenaline rush of potential discovery instead.

The woman outside laughs; the sound muted in the darkness of the office.  Victor pulls back, slides in fast, and Yuuri lets out a muffled half-sob, but he doesn’t ask to stop.  He drops his head onto his forearm, arching up into Victor’s thrusts, whole body taut and trembling with every stroke.  The couple outside finally move away and Victor doesn’t waste a second more than he has too, fucking Yuuri harder once he realizes they are safe.

“Ah, Victor!” 

Yuuri’s close, Victor can tell; he’s getting vocal again.  He slides his hand back over Yuuri’s mouth, listens to the muffled sounds Yuuri tries to bite back. Yuuri’s almost whimpering now; ragged breath hot against Victor’s palm, eyes squeezed shut.  Victor watches as Yuuri’s fists curl against the desk; he’s arching into Victor’s touch.  Victor feels Yuuri clench down tight around his cock and then Victor can feel the warm splash of Yuuri’s come over his hand, cock pulsing.  Victor thrusts forward, hard, hips stuttering as he loses the rhythm.  He drops down, mouth on Yuuri’s shoulder to muffle the sounds spilling from his own lips as he teeters on the edge of orgasm. Yuuri tightens around him, still coming, and Victor’s there, thrusting once, twice into Yuuri’s heat, release rushing through his trembling body.  All he can think is _Yuuri, Yuuri; beneath me, around me, drowning me_.

It takes a few moments for Victor to come to his senses, his breath still fast, heart beating rapidly.  He pushes up on his hands and Yuuri moans, stirring beneath him.  “Are you okay?” he asks.  He can’t help but push into Yuuri, feeling Yuuri’s muscles tighten tiredly around him.

“Yes.” Yuuri shifts, turns slightly, looking over his shoulder at Victor.  He smiles, exhaustion written clearly over every line of his face. “I think I need a shower.”

Victor laughs, pulls back slowly as his softening cock slips free.  He holds out a hand, helps Yuuri stagger upright before they both sink to the floor behind the desk.  Yuuri immediately leans into Victor’s side, and Victor pulls him closer, arm around his shoulder.  He reaches up with his other hand to snag the box of tissues some kind person had left on the desk, manages to knock it to the floor.  He pulls out a few tissues and hands them to Yuuri, who begins to clean up.  Victor does the same, although he’s less messy for obvious reasons.  He watches Yuuri, watches the play of light on his skin, his hair, his glasses.  Yuuri’s a walking wet dream, a promise; mussed and rumpled, sexy as hell, a god of carnal sin made manifest.  There’s no way anyone could look at him like this, Victor thinks, and not know he’d had mind-blowing sex.  A part of Victor loves the thought of that, but he knows it’s dangerous thinking.  Somehow they have to get out of here before anyone actually spots them and jumps to the correct conclusion.

“We should get back before our driver comes to look for us,” Victor says with regret. He runs his fingers through Yuuri’s hair, straightening it, pushing it into place.  He leans in for a lingering, slow kiss, surprised when Yuuri takes control, climbing into his lap. Victor’s cock twitches, but for now, that’s all he can manage, satiated as he is.  Eventually Yuuri pulls back, a sweet smile on his face.

“That’s a promise for later,” he says, echoing Victor’s earlier thoughts and dammit, Yuuri plays the role of ingénue so well, but it’s unaffected, genuine.  It makes Victor’s heart skip a beat, and he begins to suspect that when Yuuri is sure of himself, is determined, he’s a force to be reckoned with. 

Victor’s very much looking forward to finding out in the near future.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [From Russia with Love by Caeseria [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8634970) by [Rhea314 (Rhea)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhea/pseuds/Rhea314)




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